


Liar

by fuusunshine



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Angst and Porn, M/M, Marco's so badass, Shameless Smut, Smut, Violence, au-ish, sexy eyepatch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-01-27
Packaged: 2018-01-10 05:20:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1155577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuusunshine/pseuds/fuusunshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some secrets are too hard to keep.  Sometimes you just want what you want, the boy with the honey eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Liar

**Author's Note:**

> I have seen a ton of dark/evil Marco art lately. All of it is amazing. I just wanted to know what he would be like, would his personality change a lot or a little. So this is my take on the idea. I took some liberties with the plot and tweeked it for my own ends. Of course it ended up with smut cuz I can't help myself.
> 
> Come visit me on tumblr cuz yeah..... my blog is sad and lonely  
> http://fuusunshine.tumblr.com/

The golden glow of torches illuminated the stonewalls, deceptively presenting a warm quiet space but the cold dampness hung in the air and nipped at his bones. The soft light reflected like constellations off the crystal and he took a moment to admire its elegance. Such an exquisite phenomena, strength masked in beauty.

He stepped silently on the dank stone floor to move in closer and glanced leisurely towards the sleeping guard. It would not do to waken him. He did not feel like snapping the man's neck. Turning back to the shimmering encasement he shook his head whispering, "Annie, Annie, Annie."

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Jean awoke with a start, eyes wide and a thin sheen of sweat covering his body. His heart still thundered in his chest as he looked out the window towards the first bright hues of gold creeping over the horizon. Nightmares were most certainly common amongst members of the Survey Corps but these particular tribulations were increasing in frequency. The same images played over and over again across his vision as he slept. At first he thought them normal human reactions to the horrors he had seen and the losses he had suffered. The odd bad dream was to be expected. It had been months since Trost but he was plagued almost nightly now. The image of his best friend, torn, ripped and almost unrecognizable laying alone on a nameless street but the laughter was new. The once silent visions were now filled with Marco's laughter. The innocent sincerity of his laugh echoing off the surrounding buildings was unnervingly frightening. Shaking off the fear, he pulled himself up and out of bed. He saw no reason to remain and linger within his own mind.

Sleep deprivation made his body sluggish and his mind unfocused as he tried to keep up with daily activities. Armin had noticed, the clever little shit but Jean just shrugged his concern off with a, "Having trouble sleeping," and left it at that. His nightly anxieties were now crossing over into his waking hours putting him on edge. He startled easily and try as he might to ignore it, he was consumed with the ever present sensation of being watched. Shadows seemed to stretch out farther and dimly lit corners were swallowed by darkness. He had to get a grip on himself. A nightmare was just that, a nightmare.

In less then a week he was assigned to another expedition outside of the walls. In his current state, he would be titan fodder before the gates closed behind him. Tonight, Jean promised himself, he would get the rest he so desperately needed.

 

The scene was familiar, ruined buildings and columns of smoke dotted the cityscape. The stench of death and decay hung in sickly sweetness upon the air. Jean stood trembling as he looked down on the body. The right side torn away, one eye staring into death. There was no sound, an audible void but slowly a soft laugh was carried in on the wind. Jean turned, searching desperately for the source. With quick steps, he raced around corners, tripping on dismembered limbs and debris, frantically searching for the one who was laughing so wholeheartedly. His pace quickened, running through the streets, desperate. "Marco!"

He sat bolt upright in bed, adrenalin coursing through his veins as the door to his room closed with a quiet click. Panting heavily he placed a hand on his bare chest willing his heart rate to slow down. The threads of his nightmare began to sow into reality and the room around him became solid once more. Realization hit him with a thundering boom. Someone had been in his room. Jean threw the blankets off and leaped towards his door, pulling it open harshly and peering into the hall. A single torch burned in its sconce casting a feeble light on the stonewalls. To the right and to the left Jean saw nothing, only the shadows. Closing the door and returning to sit on his bed, he ran a hand over his face and sighed deeply. He concluded that the clicking of his door had been a remnant of his nightmare, nothing more. Throwing himself once again on his pillow, he was resigned to another sleepless night.

 

He spent the following few days struggling to keep his uneasiness at bay. Tomorrow he would be leaving the relative safety of the walls and head straight into titan territory, regardless of his mental and physical state. He took a moment to rest after grooming his horse and checking over his tack to sit against the stable wall and enjoy the late day sun. Armin, Sasha, and Connie joined him in his respite. The latter two chattered excitedly to each other while he and Armin relaxed. He was aware of the worried glances Armin insisted on giving him but did not feel like discussing the bags under his eyes. Jean turned his head away from his company and watched as the sun sank lower behind the many barns and outbuildings. Someone was standing to the side of the farthest stable wearing their standard issue green cloak, hood pulled up and obscuring their face. He noticed that they were not in uniform. Clothed in black the figure appeared to be looking directly at him. The large wooden structure cast a dark shadow on the form and Jean could not be sure of whom it was.

"Hey, who's the slacker over there?" Jean asked turning towards the three who sat with him.

They turned in the direction Jean was pointing and all three squinted.

Sasha shrugged while Connie answered, “I don't see anyone."

"Jean, there is nobody there." Armin said in a soft voice laced with concern.

Turning his head back to look at the mystery person Jean's gaze stared into shadow. They were simply gone.

"Why don't you call it a day, we can finish up."Armin stated barely containing his disquiet.

Jean took him up on the offer and decided to return to his room. His exhaustion was beginning to overwhelm him and the need for sleep drew him to his bed. He barely managed to undress before crashing down into the soft pillow as sweet oblivion wrapped him up tightly.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

He knew he was playing a dangerous game, to linger here was to risk further damaging the mission but still, he hesitated. He enjoyed watching. The way he moved, the way the light caught his eyes like liquid amber and the way his name slipped from Jean's lips in sleep. His fascination was morbidly perverse, he realized this but still he stalked in the shadows waiting for an opportunity. He had no remorse or regret for his actions, only a strange tightening in his chest when thoughts of Jean entered his mind. The boy with the honey eyes had compromised him. 

 

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Jean's eyes snapped open once again in the dead of night. He took several large gulps of air as he stared at the ceiling of his room, taking some comfort in the warm feeble light of a candle. A single bead of sweat dripped from his brow when he realized he had not been the one to light the small dancing flame.

"Hello Jean."

That voice. Jean's head turned painfully slow towards the far side of his room. An evergreen cloak was draped over the back of his wooden chair and a boy clothed entirely in black sat with his legs crossed, absentmindedly running a finger through the tiny flame perched atop the candle.

With a questioning whisper, the name left his lips. "Marco?"

A smile spread across the boy’s features, warm and inviting. In an instant, Jean was across the room wrapping his arms around Marco fiercely as he swallowed his sobs. The body in his grasp was real, the scent undeniably Marco's. He shamelessly clung to his friend, so many conflicting emotions swirling around inside his mind. Marco remained, still in his embrace, gently running the fingers of one hand through Jean's hair.

"How? I, I saw you?” He asked with his face still pressed firmly into Marco's shoulder.

Marco chuckled lightly, answering. "The resemblance was uncanny wasn't it?"

Jean removed his head from the boys shoulder to look at his face in confusion. Dark hair parted down the middle, a soft gentle smile, a spattering of freckles across his cheeks and the rich brown of his eye. Hesitantly Jean reached out and touched the black patch that rested over Marco's right eye. 

Marco's smile never faltered, as he moved Jean's fingers away from his eye. "I think it makes me look rather dashing and mysterious, don't you?" He did not wait for Jean to reply. "Just a little mishap, I'll regenerate later." 

Those words hit Jean with an incredible force, knocking the wind from his lungs. With clumsy movements, he staggered back away from his friend and stood looking down on Marco's innocently smiling face. Once again, Marco's finger played within the candles flame.

"You... You're one of...? Bertholdt, Reiner, Annie." Jean stuttered trying to grasp the information that had been hinted at.

"You really have an extraordinary talent of grasping the reality of all situations Jean. I truly admire you for that."

Jean's fists were clenched tightly at his sides and he could not control the trembling of his body. Confused and angry he asked. "Why?"

"Now Jean, as well rounded and stead fast warriors those three are you had to have realized someone was pulling their strings."

"You." Jean growled.

"Oh, no, no, no, not me. I am simply in charge of this particular mission and might I add that it most certainly did not go as planned."Marco answered lightly.

"Why come here? Why tell me this? You were better off dead."

"Oh Jean, your words hurt me. I came here because of you." Marco paused and his ever present smile faltered. He looked towards Jean, anger and sadness sharing his expression. "It seems that perhaps, I have shown the same weakness that the others have. I care about you Jean."

"Liar!" Jean spat. 

With quick movements, Jean allowed his anger and betrayal to push him into action. With no concern for his partial nudity, he reached for the door intent on sounding an alarm, intent on hurting Marco. Memories of his and Marco's friendship, the closeness he had never shared with anyone else all shattered in a single moment. He had spent months of grieving for an enemy twisting his gut into painful knots.

He was spun around and his back slammed into the hard wood of his door with surprising force before he could even turn the handle. Marco's hands pressed painfully into his shoulders, holding him captive. The once friendly, open visage of his friend was now viciously looking down on him. They glared at each other in silence, neither one surrendering.

Marco's expression changed from fierce hostility to a forlorn sadness. His hands remained, pinning Jean in place as he leaned down to whisper in his ear. "Not yet."

Jean struggled but Marco held him firm. He had always known Marco was strong but obviously he had been holding back in order to avoid suspicion. 

Marco bent, nuzzling his nose in the crook of Jean's neck while inhaling deeply. The sensation sent shivers running down Jean's spine and he grit his teeth in retaliation of his bodies traitorous reaction.

"I hate you!". Jean snarled through his clenched teeth.

Marco looked up to meet his eyes and smiled softly. "Liar."

Jean made a feeble attempt at pushing the taller boy away before turning his head to the floor. "I hate you." He repeated in a shaky breath.

Marco took his chin in his fingers and gently turned Jean's face back towards him. "Liar."

Surprisingly soft, warm lips pressed against his while Jean remained perfectly still, eyes wide in shock and confusion. Marco pulled back to gauge his reaction and Jean did not miss the sorrow in his eye. Marco closed his eye and exhaled heavily, the pain of rejection evident in his expression as he took a step back releasing Jean from his grasp. Jean faltered for a moment, unsure how to react or what to do but instinctively he clung to Marco. His fingers knotted the fabric of Marco's black shirt not allowing him to pull away entirely. 

Tugging on the cloth Jean pulled Marco back in. Their mouths so close their breaths tickled upon the others lips. Jean muttered one last word before giving in, "Liar."

Their mouths crashed against one another, all thoughts of right and wrong evaporating in their need to feel the other's heat. Nothing existed outside of this room. Nothing mattered but the desire to be completely engulfed within the other.

Marco ran his hands over the surface of Jean's shoulders and down the lean muscle of his arms, snaking around his waist and pulling him closer. Wet lips parted as they tasted and explored the other. It wasn't gentle, it wasn't sweet. Jean bit down on Marco's lower lip hard, the coppery taste of blood teasing his tongue. His actions were rewarded with a hard shove back into the wood of the door behind him. Marco's body pressed ruthlessly against his, one strong thigh claiming the space between his legs. Searing lips burnt a trail down his neck stopping only to return the favor as Marco's teeth punctured skin. Jean growled as Marco looked up at him with a dangerous smile, lips red from his blood. 

Fisting the collar of the traitor’s shirt Jean crushed his lips against the others, grinding himself against Marco's thigh, his erection straining the cloth of his boxers and begging for friction. He fumbled with the buttons on the cursed fabric that separated him from Marco's skin and gave up with a grunt, choosing instead to simply rip it open and off. 

Skin pressed against skin. Marco moaned, slow and deep as he ran his body along Jean's, his pants painfully tight. Digging his fingers into the other boy's hips, he lifted. Jean had no choice but to wrap his legs around him or fall. Having his honey eyed weakness cling to him, touch him, taste him sent jolts of pleasure straight to his cock and he groaned into the sweetness of Jean's flesh. He pulled Jean away from the door causing him to cling tighter and Marco smiled wide. 

Three long strides and he forcefully pressed Jean into the mattress. Untangling their limbs, he hovered over the boy admiring his heavy lidded eyes and pink cheeks. Licking his lips he undid his pants and slid them down over his hips, his hardness springing free before he ruthlessly tore away Jean's boxers. Parting Jean's thighs he ground down on him, a gasp filling the air as their lengths rubbed together teasingly. Marco wrapped one large hand around both of them, stroking slowly, tauntingly as Jean bucked his hips up into his hand.

"M, Marco." Jean hummed pleadingly.

It felt so good but Jean needed more. Marco obliged him. He held his fingers to Jean's lips and he eagerly took them in. Sucking, nipping, licking, coating them, he savored Marco's taste. Fingers were replaced with a warm wet tongue, Marco's mouth upon his once again. He gasped as he felt one finger press inside and then again, when a second joined the first. Jean bit down on a knuckle to keep from crying out but Marco would have none of that. He roughly grasped Jean's wrists in one hand and pinned them above his head. Small quiet noises passed his lips and he began to thrust in time to Marco's fingers.

"Sing for me." Marco demanded with a pleased smirk.

The sound of Marco's voice riddled with lust made Jean painfully hard, moans and mewls spilled from his lips unbidden. Marco knowingly curled his fingers desperate to hear more.

"Ahh, oh, gah, Mar, Marco."

Marco slowly retracted his fingers and shifted his body. One hand splayed on either side of Jean's head. There was nothing he wanted more then to take what was his. The boy beneath him, his most prized possession. He shifted and pushed his cock inside, pulling a pained groan from Jean's throat. Such beautiful noises he made. He did not wait, he began thrusting roughly, relishing in the tight heat. He leaned down on his forearms to get closer, watching the way Jean's painful grimace melted into ecstasy.

"Mine." Marco groaned before driving his tongue deep into Jean's mouth.

The combination of pain and pleasure drove Jean to the brink, his cock throbbing, begging to be touched. He raised his hips to meet Marco's demanding and powerful thrusts as he sang his song. The warmth of a hand wrapped tightly around him began to stroke in time to their dance. His fingers dug into flesh as he held on as best he could to sanity. Fire burned along every nerve, he was so close.

"Cum for me."

Jean did just that, arching his back he splattered his chest and stomach with ropes of white.

Marco shuddered above, filling him with liquid fire as he held Jean's gaze. Leaning down he lapped up the mess on Jean's stomach causing goose bumps to spring up over his oversensitive flesh and a contented sigh to pass his lips.

Marco shifted to the side and silently pulled Jean against him, tucking his head under his chin so he could bury his nose in those dirty blonde locks. His arms encircled Jean possessively as he came down from the high of only moments ago. He would not release him until he was ready to.

Jean nuzzled into Marco's neck, the rhythm of their heartbeats lulling him to sleep. Pressing himself as close as possible, he closed his eyes and drifted off.

Jean awoke to the rustle of fabric, the warm body that had pressed against his, gone. The sky outside the window was only beginning to lighten. Marco stood by the door slipping into his evergreen cloak then turned to look at Jean who was now sitting up in his bed. A strange sadness laced with anger haunted his brown eye and Jean felt his stomach drop out from under him. He could not keep Marco's secret and the other boy knew this. Jean's emotions mirrored what he saw in Marco's eye. He wanted to say something, anything but no words of comfort for either one of them could be found.

Marco smiled sadly, taking one last look at his most precious possession. "Give me a head start."

Jean nodded as his eyes began to water. "Go."


End file.
